Gold Dust
by comstocks
Summary: A Dunmer appears from the fires of Kvatch like smoke to carry out the dying wish of an Emperor and change Brother Martin's fate. What she didn't expect was to be so intertwined with it all.
1. Knock

1

Knock

The first time they met, it started from a knock on the door.

The large doors of the Chapel rattled with each knock, the noise echoing. Everyone occupant within the Chapel seemed to still simultaneously, all eyes casting to the only way that the Daemora could get in. The air grew thick, everyone waiting with berated breath for the knocks to come again, to know they hadn't just been dreaming it. And they did, this time incessant and demanding.

In the furthest part of the Chapel, near the stainless windows, a priest knelt, praying with the few remaining survivors. He lifted his head to stare that the door, greying hair falling into his gentle blue eyes. As though it was second nature, he cast a spell from his fingertips. His eyes were bathed in a white glow, the same colour aura being seen from the Chapel's occupants and from the figure on the other side of the door. He blinked and the world returned to as it were.

He stood the others nearby staring at him with questioning gazes. Even the guards did, turning the heads back from where they stood at the door

"It's no Daedra," He announced, leaving his words hanging in the air. He could not be clear who was on the other side but he knew there was no danger present. A guard, perhaps? A refugee who had managed to sneak their way past the Gate? All the options were absurd. Whoever the individual was, they were either stupid for trying to reach the Chapel or far too injured to realise what was happening.

There was a pause as the Guards decided what to do, their hushed murmurs carrying across the stone walls. After much deliberation between them, he could see they'd made their choice when they all nodded their heads. One brave soul approached the door whilst the others formed a barricade, shields up front and swords poking out from the sides. The door opened with a creak and in slipped a small, lithe figure. Heat from the outside poured through until the guard slammed the door shut to keep the monstrosities out.

He felt his feet carry him over to the person who had just entered, question in his gaze. Other did too, curious as to who this newcomer was. Drawing nearer he took note of how petite they were in both frame and height. Their leather armour barely clung to their frame, like there was meat lacking on their bones. The armour had several tears to it, grey skin illuminated by the red that streamed in from the glass. Their face was covered; by the shadows and their hood, making it impossible to see their face. One of the Guards questioned them but was met with no reply.

Instead, the mysterious figure turned their head as though searching for someone. The movement slowed when they neared his position, stopping altogether as they stared directly at him. While he could not see that they were gazing at him, he could feel the icy intensity of it, chilling him to the core and freezing him in place. The spell was broken as they made their way towards him, the Guards observing them apprehensively and the citizens with fear. They betrayed no inclination in their body language that they were disturbed by the many eyes upon them, stalking head fast towards him.

When they were shy of a few metres from him, they halted their path but they were close enough for him to catch a glimpse of their face. The majority of her face was covered by a hood and a scarf that was draped over her mouth and her nose. Only her eyes were exposed, a deep crimson colour that was known to belong to Dunmer. They held a frosty gleam to them, unlike the blaze that would normally be associated with the colour. A small, elven dagger was strapped to one hip and a Scimitar on the other. He didn't let what he saw perturb him, having seen similar in his years as a Priest.

"Are you Martin?" The voice was low and rough, holding a raspy quality to it, like the voice was often used.

It retained feminine tones, informing him that the individual was a womer. As she spoke, he couldn't help but feel another shiver creep up on him and he repressed the urge to act such a way in front of her. Instead, he chose to focus on the suspicion that arose when she spoke his name. How did she know who he was if never having met her before? If the circumstance were different, he might not have thought twice. But with the Oblivion Gate tall in Kvatch, most of the town killed and a random stranger amongst it all was warrant for wariness.

"Why? Who are you?" He didn't bother to keep the caution out of his voice, wanting exactly to let the Dunmer know how he felt.

The response was a blink of the cold, red eyes; acting like the edge to his voice didn't faze her in the slightest. She stepped closer to him and Martin willed himself not to step back, wanting to show the Mer he wasn't affected by her. Even when her piercing gaze remained glued to his eyes and Martin felt like she could see into his very soul. It was disturbing to say the least.

"Are you Martin?" She repeated and each word was stressed with the ire that rose in her tone. It was then when he realised that this womer was dangerous and not one to be trifled with. Yet, Martin didn't allow himself to falter to her intimidation.

"Yes, I am Martin, what do you want with me?" He answered, equally as irate, not at all appreciating her rather unneeded behaviour.

He could see her brow move upward, no doubt at the tone of his voice. In fact, the iciness of her gaze seemed to dim a little, intrigue filling them, something that left his perplexed but he didn't mention, brushing it off as a trick of the light. She stepped closer to him, breaching his personal space. This time he let his discomfort show, unsure how to feel about the proximity.

"The Emperor sent me. You're his son and you're needed,"

 **A/N; Honestly, writing this now is a terrible idea on my part. I mean I have A-Levels, it's not good but I'm determined to do this. So far I've done six chapters and have planned the rest out and I want to finish it so, hope you all enjoy; because you lot are what motivate me**


	2. Name

2

Name

Smoke billowed upwards, camouflaging with the darkened sky above. The fire from which it came burned brightly, creating a glow around the dried grass. It crackled and hissed every now and then as the wood splintered and burnt. Its warmth radiated quite far despite its small size, keeping the two figures safe from the bitter cold that had come about when night had fallen. A biting breeze caused the flame to flicker and one figure to shiver, shifting closer to the comfort of the fire. Hands drew forward, seeking to take advantage of the heat.

Whilst he knew that he could conjure fire to keep himself protected from the chill, he was too weary to use his Magicka. Having been on the road for about three days with little to no rest was beginning to take its toll on him, he wasn't as young as he used to be. It showed in his stamina, often being behind and racing to catch up with his companion. Martin's tired eyes drifted over the flames to stare at the Dunmer.

She sat, crossed legged, on the grass carefully slicing a poor rabbit that she'd poached before they settled for the night. Her focus was intent on the preparation of their meal, allowing Martin to study her for a while longer. When she had breezed into the Chapel, he wasn't sure what to expect but he certainly didn't expect her to tell him of his true heritage. Even now he was still reeling from truth that he was the son of the late Uriel Septim the Seventh. Not matter how much he wanted to deny it, to shout at her that she was lying, he very well knew that it was the truth.

It hurt him to think that his life was a lie; that his father was no farmer and his mother didn't die in childbirth. His biological mother could still be out there but he didn't allow himself to dwell on such thoughts, knowing it was better than to think of it that way. However, he wasn't sure if the bitterness would simply fade overnight. It was strange for news as momentous at that to come from someone who he knew had nothing to do with it all.

After that, she had demanded that he come with her to escape the Daedra that had still poured from the Gate outside but Martin wouldn't follow her until they were all gone. He could remember the regret that had come when she had nodded at him once before striding out the doors, leaving as quickly as she came for he realised that he may have just sent her to her death. He had prayed to Akatosh that she would return unharmed and she did just that. This time with the Captain by her side, who told all that the danger had passed.

Martin stayed true to his word and informed her that he would come to Weynon Priory. And so they journeyed away from the destroyed town of Kvatch, the remaining survivors cheering for their Hero. The tension was apparent in her body as they named her such, coiling at the mere mention of it, like she didn't want to be called that. It was a name that he had to refer to her as for she had yet to give him her actual name.

Of course, he didn't actually call her that, only in his mind when he thought of her. They hadn't uttered many words to each other since leaving Kvatch, just the occasional affirmative that they would be stopping for the night. Martin wanted to strike up conversation with her, being quite intrigued to the mysterious aura that surrounded her and called to him to discover more. But at the same time, he could tell that she was already a womer of few words and didn't want to talk to him.

That of course reminded him of what he may be to her; nothing but a mission. She wasn't here to be neither his friend nor his acquaintance, it was clear the moment they started on their voyage. Why else would she search for him when there was a Gate standing in the middle of a town? Why else would she risk herself to close it? Because he was the last hope Tamriel had to save the Empire, not because she was a kind soul that wanted to save people.

The bitterness from his earlier thoughts creeped up on him again and his brow deepened. He tried to keep the thoughts repressed, knowing that perhaps he was being too closed minded before he actually attempted to know more about the womer. But his frayed and foggy mind refused to let the souring thought loose from their grasp.

"What is your name?" He suddenly spoke, shocking himself as the words fell from his lips but knew it was him trying to keep away from the darker thoughts.

The Hero stilled in her placed, dagger pausing where it had been cutting away at the rabbit's leg. He could tell that the question wasn't anticipated and a small smug part of his rejoiced at being able to catch her.

Her head rose from its bowed position over the meat, frosty eyes that clashed with the crimson staring at him impassively. Her face was still covered by her hood and the mask, making it hard for him to register any sort of emotion. Even her eyes lacked it, unlike the time in the Chapel when he has seen curiosity, a flicker of what the womer is. Now, her gaze remained guarded and he could tell that everything about her was locked up tight. All he had to do was find the right key. He didn't understand why he was so curious about her but it would still be nice to know a little more about the womer who saved all of Kvatch for him.

"It's not important," She replied, going back to the flayed rabbit as if he hadn't even asked her a question and his eyebrow quirked up.

Was she really that adamant about not revealing anything about herself?

"Would you rather I call you Hero?" Her reaction was instantaneous and he knew he'd caught her.

Her shoulders hunched forward and it was like her body was slowly starting to coil into itself. Martin felt a stab of guilt, now realising that perhaps he'd take it a bit too far for it was clear that she was uncomfortable. He went to apologize for his forward behaviour only for her to beat him to it.

"It's Iveona," She began and Martin blinked, actually surprised that she had decided to reply.

She lifted her head again, a hard edge to her eyes as if daring him to say anything. He chose not to, waiting for her to continue.

"Iveona Nethys," She informed him and Martin felt a smile worm its way onto his face.

"A pleasure," He saw her frown, something flashing across her eyes that he couldn't decipher for she bowed her head again.

Regardless of the abrupt change, Martin still felt the smile linger on his face.

 **A/N; So hellooo; this update is earlier than what I planned my schdule to be but I'm going to have no time to do it next week (it's my birthday tomorrow and I'm doing 10000000 things next week), so yeah. Hope people are enjoying this and thanks to the first reviewer! I'm shook**


	3. Beginnings

3  
Beginnings

"Why did he send you?"

The words had fallen from his lips before his mind could comprehend what he had done. Internally, he winced the way he had phrased the question. It sounded accusing and harsh, like he was complaining about Iveona. It was not his intention. Her indifferent eyes turned to meet his up to betraying no emotion to his choice of words.

They sat side by side against a river bank, the water flowing gently down the rocks. The sun was high in the sky today, truly representing the month of the Sun's Height. It had been so unbearable warm that they had both agreed to rest for a moment and by convenience a stream happened to be nearby. Iveona had slipped off her boots, her feet dipped into the cooling waters. Martin had neglected to do the same, his hands running through the running water instead. They had sat in a peaceful, somewhat content silence, the tense edge a few days ago dissipating. That was of course, until he had opened his mouth.

"I mean-"

"I know what you meant," She interrupted, her tone much the same as her eyes but he could detect something hidden within that he wasn't sure he could see.

Martin didn't press her for more questions, waiting patiently for her to answer, if she wanted to. He had been through this many times before when in the Chapel of Akatosh when travellers from all crawls of life had to come in search of answers as they sat next him. Only this time, it was he who was looking for answers.

Her eyes fell from his and he took note of that, normally it was him that had turned from her smouldering gaze. He didn't dare shuffle closer nor touch her shoulder, his hands remaining to play with the water. A sigh of weariness fell from her lips, her head bowing towards the ground.

"I was there when he died,"

Martin blinked.

He had not been expecting that.

The priest turned away from her then, eyes finding the dense a few metres away. Martin stayed silent, trying to break down and make sense of the emotions that came through him at the admission. As the news of the Emperor's death spread like a wildfire across Cyrodill, Martin had been one of the many citizens to mourn the man for a moment to allow his soul to rest before moving on like nothing had even happened. Even when Iveona had informed him of his true parentage, he had waited for the powerful storm of emotion to come as he thought of Uriel Septim's death later on in that night.

But nothing had come, only a sense of loss that he had never had the chance to meet his real father. Although the man had every opportunity to do so throughout Martin's thirty eight years for the man knew the truth otherwise Iveona wouldn't be here now. The Emperor had no true connection to him, not truly. All Uriel Septim was to him was a figurehead and a leader, despite how cruel it sounds, it was the truth. He did not let anger about the situation consume him, what happened in the past stayed there; his life now was about the present and the future to come for him.

"He had asked me to find you," She began, startling Martin out from his thoughts and his turned his sole attention to the Dunmer.

"Gave me the Amulet of Kings and go find Jaffure and his last son. I didn't understand why, I was-" She stopped herself there abruptly; eyes flickered over to him with a hard glint. Martin took no notice, engrossed in her story.

Despite it being so short, it was the longest she had even spoken to him before and he felt something in his chest that a womer who kept herself so closed off gave him trust, if it even was that.

"I'm no Blade. I'm no Hero. I'm no one, just someone who was there at the wrong time," Her words held a bitter edge to them, something that made him frown.

"No you're not," He informed her without hesitation, his frown deepening when she scoffed.

"You don't even know me," Her voice was sharp, like she wanted to cut him with her words.

"No, I don't," He started, honestly, causing her eyes to fall to him again and Martin stared back her in determination.

"But regardless of the circumstances, you still saved a town of people by closing an Oblivion Gate and you're helping people you don't know. To me, that doesn't sound like being no one," He stopped there, not wanting to make her uncomfortable with his preaching.

Not everyone appreciated his ramblings back in Kvatch but he wanted to let Iveona knew what he thought her. Despite his bitter thoughts day ago about being just a mission to her, he knew that wasn't the case anymore after hearing her words. To him, she seemed selfless to find him despite not being bound to Uriel Septim in cause or association. Martin did not know much about her, but from what he had seen through her actions, he was beginning to think that she seemed to be a good person. It took a lot for someone to go out of their way to help someone they didn't even know. If anything, it was admirable. Her eyes glinted with disbelief and he knew that his words had meant something to her. She coughed and blinked the disbelief away, as if it hadn't been there in the first place but Martin knew otherwise.

"I can see why you're a priest," Her eyes were twinkling with mirth, so unlike the passive and negative emotion that was normally displayed there. A breathy laugh left him, mainly at the abrupt humour that she had brought.

"Does that mean you'll start listening to me now?" He wondered, throwing in his own humour as well, glad that the tension between they had slowly begun to dissipate. Iveona snorted again and Martin couldn't help but smile again.

"In your dreams, Princess," This time his laugh came out like a punch to the lungs and the force of it launched him back onto the grass.

His body shook with barely contained laughter, having not felt this light in weeks. He admired her straightforward nature, finding it refreshing from being used to timid characters around him. It also made him realise that she didn't seem to care all the much about his new status, something which he didn't want when the truth had been revealed.

His laughter was borderline hysterical at this point but he felt that he needed release from all the utter madness that had occurred within the past week. Daedra coming out from Oblivion, a Dunmer appearing out of nowhere and finding out Uriel Septim was his father. Utter madness. When his laughs had finally slowed down, it left him with aching sides and a light head.

"You're an odd man, Martin," Iveona informed him, causing him to lift his upper half up, resting his elbows on the riverbank.

He gave her a dazzling smile and he could have sworn to Talos himself that her eye twitched but he played it off as a trick of the light. There were a few minutes of silence as Martin continued to smile at her, uncaring to how mad he seemed to be. This time, he caught the softening gleam in her eyes and he knew that he might be breaking through her shell.


	4. Trouble

4  
Trouble

Dusk was slowly starting to fall; the sky painted a deep orange and purple. The sun had been lost behind the dense trees that the pair travelled through. Iveona made sure to stay clear of main roads to prevent being so easily caught by the Mythic Dawn. She still knew the way to the Priory, having taken this exact path when she had made her way to Kvatch less than three weeks ago. It was now the ninth day in their way to their destination and she knew that it would be another week to the Priory with the longer way they were going but it was safe this way.

Briefly, she turned her head to behind her to glance at Martin. The Priest's face was flushed crimson, no doubt trying to match her fast pace. She slowed her pace slightly and he gave her a thankful look, puffing his cheeks in exertion. She knew that Martin was older than her; if his grey hairs and stamina were anything to go by. But she wouldn't apologize for working him hard to reach the Priory. After all, the matter was quite pressing at the moment. After all, he was the last hope for the Empire and closing the Gates of Oblivion.

If she was honest, Iveona still hadn't quite figured out exactly why she was doing this. Why she was willingly escorting the man across Cyrodiil to save the Empire. She didn't much care for it, feeling they wanted to conquer all the other countries in Tamriel for their own pleasure. Iveona supposed she didn't want the world to end through the monsters that were the Daedra; she planned to live in the world for quite a while yet. But now that feeling had turned into something more and she knew it had something to do with the man behind her, despite how she tried to prevent it.

There was something different about him and she knew it had nothing to do with his royal status. It was something more that stirred certain things in her chest. She wasn't falling in love with the man; she wasn't that foolish. She had experienced love once and it ended in disaster. Iveona figured it was something to do with his utter kindness. At first, she was wary of it, thinking he was doing it for his own gain but having spent more than a week with him, it was more.

It was genuine.

She discovered that when he asked for her name.

No one asked for her name.

She was no one, she wasn't anything special or important and she liked to keep it that way. The less the world knew about her the better. But it seemed that Martin didn't think the same. She had to admit, he was brave to try to weasel information out of her. The last person who had pushed and pushed to know more about her ended up with a sliced throat. She couldn't really do that to him and a small, stupid part of her liked his curiosity about her.

Of course, she had squashed those thoughts down immediately. She refused to let herself become attached to this kind hearted man, having no strings suited her just fine and it had done so for the majority of her life. When they arrived at the Priory he would forget about her and all of this would just be some distant memory.

She wasn't sure where she would be going but it would be anywhere other than Morrowind. The people she worked for were no doubt searching for her now; the news of the incident would have reached them by now. She'd been stuck in an Imperial prison for the past six months; it was long enough for information to travel back to her former superiors. Nonetheless, she would figure something out, she always did.

Her thoughts dwindled away as she noticed Martin's head starting to turn towards her and she snapped her head back to the front, not wanting to be caught staring. She had to keep her frigid and guarded exterior, lest she start to actually feel something.

"Would it not be best to stop now?" Martin's voice sounded devoid of energy, weariness clinging to his words.

Iveona stopped in her tracks, pausing to debate on what to do. It may be good to stop now; the woods provided good cover and they were both exhausted. But then again, they were many days into their journey and still failed to reach the Priory. His footfalls sped up slightly and Iveona had to prevent herself from tensing when he came to amble beside her. In the corner of her eye, she saw him glance at her, warm eyes watching her. It only succeeded in making her uncomfortable.

She felt that the longer he stared, the more he could discover about her. She didn't want him to find out much about her, feeling that her name and how she got into the situation was enough. Someone from long ago once told her that her eyes were the window to her inner emotion, having said that they could tell all that she was thinking. At first she thought them foolish but the way Martin searched her gaze, she thought perhaps it was true. In the next town she visited, she would find a mask to better cover her face than the flimsy cloth she was currently using.

She heard the crack of a branch from far away. Iveona stilled, her ears twitching underneath her hood to search for the origin of the noise. Her red eyes raked the surroundings only to find nothing but endless trees. Despite finding nothing, she knew there was something hidden in the shadows. She often spent her time there, so she knew its tricks better than most. In the corner of her eye, she saw Martin go to speak but she held a hand up to stop him, wanting to be able to use her ears to detect any danger.

It was then when she heard something whizzing through the air and she reacted faster than lightning. Without hesitation, she reached forward to grab the front of Martin's robe, keeping a firm grip on the fabric. His face conveyed surprise as she pulled them to the ground. Only a split second later did an arrow bury itself into the bark of the tree behind them. Iveona let her grasp on Martin fall, whirling around to face whoever had attempted to kill them.

Her blades became unsheathed from her sides and she brought them out before her, positioning herself in her fighting stance. Her knees became crouched with legs becoming shoulder width apart and her elbows hovering beside her waist.

"Stay behind me and don't move from this spot," She hissed through the cover, loud enough for him to hear.

In the corner of her eyes she saw his face scrunch up in protest and she clenched her teeth. Five figures emerging from the woods drew her attention away from Martin for now. All held bows in their grasp, drawstring stretched and arrows in its nooks. Under her hood, she could feel her lip start to twitch up, realising that these Bandits would be too easy to deal with. She also noticed their lack of armour; wearing little but cloth to cover their decency, skin exposed that would be too easy to cut. There was a ravenous gleam to all of their eyes and she knew that they'd stumbled across

Cannibals.

Swiftly, she flipped her smallest dagger so that she was holding the blade, making it easier to throw. Iveona decided not to strike yet, waiting for them to draw closer so that it would be easier for her to take them all down.

"Look at what we have here boys," The one in the centre of them started; voice dripping with hunger. He was the largest out of the five and clearly the leader if his plethora of markings in comparison to others told her anything.

"Iveona," Martin hissed from behind her to which she ignored her focus intent on how she was going to kill them all.

"Looks like we found our next meal. I want the Imperial all-" His words were cut short when an elven dagger lodged itself into the centre of his forehead.


	5. Blood

5  
Blood

A hush fell around the clearing as the giant man slumped to the ground, causing it to quake and the dirt to lift. Blood seeped from his wound, droplets dripping to the dry ground and staining the brown earth crimson. His chest did not rise nor did it fall, in fact he didn't move at all, his lifeless eyes staring up to the sky. His comrades gaped at the dead body, which provided her with an opportunity.

Iveona rushed at them then, not even bothering to check on Martin. At the moment, she didn't care about him, she cared about this fight. She'd been itching to take her aggression out on something and this presented her with the perfect opportunity to do so. Back in the Imperial prison, she'd had little chance to take it out on the Mythic Dawn, being that the guards had taken care of most of them, which left her with little room to attack. Normally, she wouldn't consider herself to be such a violent person; being calm and collected was something that worked well in her line of work. But she supposed that being locked up in a prison for six months left her to her thoughts much too often and had started to change the way she thought.

Her free hand joined her other in grasping the hilt of her sword. When she reached the Cannibal on the furthest left, the one the closest to her, she pushed all of her strength into her arms and swung her scimitar. The blade cut clean through his arm and an ungodly scream ripped out from his mouth. The noise echoed across the empty clearing and spurred the remaining three on. One charged at her, a war cry erupting from him. Iveona easily sidestepped him, almost rolling her eyes at his stupidity. She heard him stumble behind her but she paid no mind to him for now. An arrow flew towards her, which to dodged by doing a forward rolling, being careful of the sharp blade she still held in her grasp.

When she rolled to her hands and knees, something sharp pierced her skin. A groan nearly wormed its way past her lips as she felt the arrow's head dig itself into the junction between her shoulder and her chest. As pain radiated down the length of her arm, she dropped her scimitar without thinking. She lifted her head to see two smug archers before her, their arrows pointed directly at her, waiting for her to make a move. Before she could even come up with a plan one of the men were thrown back by a shot of white and Iveona almost shivered when she felt the chill that followed with it. The man slammed into a nearby tree, a sharp crack resounding across the meadow as his neck bent in a way that wasn't normal.

Iveona whirled her head to face the attacker, her eyes narrowing when she saw it was Martin. His hands were bathed in a frosty hue, magic coming off his finds in tendrils. He met her eyes, his glinting with defiance, no doubt daring her to say something to her. Just as she was about to do just that she noticed that the other archer was drawing bow in Martin direction. With a growl bubbling at the base of her throat, she rose to her feet, her anger at Martin's action causing all proper thinking to blur. She charged at the man, angling her body and crashed her body into his. As she tackled him to the ground, she felt his feet trip on something that sent them stumbling down the steep incline that she and Martin had climbed only a few moments ago.

Every bump left her wincing, her teeth grinding against each other every time she bounced off the ground. Half way down her tumble, she felt the wood of the arrow snap off its head, the latter of which was still dug into shoulder. All she could think about as she continued to roll was how she was going to kill Martin when she recovered. If it wasn't for his actions, she wouldn't be in this mess. After what seemed like forever, her rolling started to slow until her back was resting against cool grass, its moisture seeping into her thin layers. Despite how much her body wanted her to relax and close her eyes; she refused until the other Cannibal was dead. She hurried to her hands and knees, finding him also on the ground, though he was on his front. His form shook as she heard him cough and splutter, as though trying to take air back into his lungs.

She sauntered her way over to him, collecting an arrow from the ground that had rolled out of its leather sheath. Iveona was mindful to not use her right hand, the agony radiating from her wound too much for her to even move a muscle. Instead, she held it in her left hand as she placed a foot to the man's side, using whatever strength she had left to push his body sideways. His eyes widened as she loomed above him and she made sure that her eyes were indifferent. Fear shone in his eyes as she knelt beside him, the emotion clearly paralyzing him.

Iveona didn't react to his newfound terror, feeling her icy shell wrap around her. It always came whenever she went in for a kill, as though her mind wanted her to be desensitised by her actions, despite how many times she had done this in her short life. Without even batting an eyelid, she sunk the arrow into the man's throat. His blood squirted out from the wound, splattering across her mask, some even managing to land on the bridge on her nose. She watched with impassive eyes as he choked on his own blood and the arrow that prevented from breathing. His body twitched and his eyes were truly filled with horror. They soon glazed over after many moments of struggle, his movement stopping entirely as a final breath left him.

Iveona felt no sympathy for the man as she rose to her feet again, staring at him in disgust. For good measure, she gave him a swift kick, that Oblivion would take him and make him suffer for his Cannibalism. She was half tempted to spit on his corpse but she supposed that it was taking it too far. Even she had her limits when it came to the dead. Footfalls were heard from behind her, the wheezing that came with it informing her that it was only Martin. At the thought of him, her icy shell melted as the fury began to burn deep within her soul.

"What happened to 'stay behind me and stay in your spot'?" She didn't quite understand herself why she was acting in such an untoward way.

Perhaps the exhaustion she had been feeling for the past six months and the situation she'd been thrown into by an Emperor she didn't even support was beginning to take its toll on her. Martin seemed taken aback by her behaviour, his face marred with a frown.

"The way you rushed in and when they shot you with an arrow, it looked like you were going to be killed," Her anger increased tenfold, highly offended that someone had doubted her abilities to fight. It made her feel small and she didn't enjoy that one bit.

"I was handling it," She seethed out, her left hand curled into a fist, leaving her now numbing right arm limp. Martin sighed, his shoulders slumping forward in defeat but she didn't allow herself to pity him.

"I was only trying to help," He admitted and she almost scoffed at his self-conscious tone, her nose crinkling up in distaste at his childish behaviour. How was this man supposed to be one to rule an Empire if he didn't even have a backbone to show for it?

"I didn't ask for it, so don't bother next time, understood?" She grit out.

No one in her life had ever wanted to help her, only ever wanting to do harm with her. It was something that she was so used to by now that she felt uncomfortable with the notion that someone may actually be willing to lend a hand. So she preferred to keeping to herself and away from people who wanted to "help". Everyone always wanted something out of her if she did and she wasn't willing to give anything. Just because Martin gave her soft eyes and kind words didn't mean she was going to trust him, future emperor or not. Without bothering to let him speak, she stormed off back to the hill in a blinded rage, unknowing to the melancholic stare that followed her.

 **A/N; Hope you enjoyed and reviews would be appreciated!**


	6. Infected

6

Infected

They had not spoken in three days.

Where the air had once been tense and awkward, it had become unbearable and stifling. No words passed between them, not even a single glance. When they did rest for the night after endless miles of walking, Iveona made sure that she was the furthest away from him whilst remaining within earshot, lest there be more danger on the horizon. Though she supposed that she would not be much help now by the way her body screamed at her in agony with each footstep she took. Her body still ached from the tumble down the hill but the worst of it was her arm where she knew that the arrow head was still embedded inside.

By now, she knew it to be infected if the pain was this unbearable and the how sick she felt. Beneath her torn leather armour her skin blazing hotter than the warmest day during Sun's Height, the sweat that was rolling off her grey skin causing her to stick to the frayed leather. Her head and eyes pounded like a drum from the ache that had been there for the past days since the incident. Despite all the agony she was in, she didn't want to admit defeat to her injuries, having suffered worse in the past. When she had the time, she would take the arrowhead out and it would be done. But right now, she didn't want to waste time with something like this.

They had healing potions but she didn't want to waste them on something as trivial as this. She wouldn't dare use a healing spell, not being too fond of magic and she certainly wouldn't allow Martin to help her. She couldn't even look at him for she didn't want to see his expression, knowing it would be nothing but horror and disgust over her actions. Once, Iveona was uncaring towards others reactions towards what she did to others when she worked but for whatever reason, she felt ashamed of them in front of Martin. She knew it had nothing to do with his future Emperor status, that part of him meant nothing to her, he was just a priest from Kvatch who was thrown into something he didn't wish and she related to it more than she liked. It was something different, something like hope.

Hope that someone wished to get to know her. Hope that she had found someone that she could connect to more than she ever had done before. Hope that someone could be her friend. But that had diminished like a blown out candle after her acts the other day. It had caused her to remember all she had done, all the lives she had ruined because of money and doing everything for someone she thought she loved. The ugly truth was that she was a monster within Tamirel and she didn't deserve good happenings. And she certainly didn't deserve someone like Martin to be in her life.

Their slowly growing friendship was doomed to fail the moment her sinful feet had stepped into the Chapel of Akatosh but damn the Divines, she wanted to have something good in her life for once. As she continued to move she felt her eyes stinging from the pain; literal or figurative she didn't know. In fact, her vision blurred and she knew it wasn't from the tears for black spots dotted her vision and an unexpected wave of dizziness washed over her. She could feel exhaustion pulling her bones down and her footsteps becoming more unsteady. Behind her, she could have sworn she heard Martin call her name before she heard nothing at all.

The next thing she knew, she was on her side and her shoulder was throbbing like never before. A groan fell from her lips as fire flared across her wound, like someone was digging the arrowhead into her arm. Iveona attempted to move but her entire body was too weak. And she hated feeling weak. She would rather be fighting a sabre cat barehanded than feeling as she did now. The only thing she could do was open her eyes but she saw Martin and she wanted to close them again. She couldn't be dealing with him and his kindness right now. He was a few inches away from her, kneeling down in the dirt, his blue robe stained with the dust. His face was etched with concern, his eyebrows lifting up and his lips pulled down in a frown.

"Iveona, what is that matter?" He wondered, anxiety clear in his voice. A hand reached over to her shoulder and she was in too much agony to move away from him.

When he rested his arm on her good shoulder, she felt warmth spread through her. This time, she did try to squirm away from him as he used a healing spell. If she could admit she had any fears, it was magic. It reminded her of a time from long ago that she always willed to forget and was tired of remembering. He gripped her shoulder a little tighter as she continued to weakly struggle and she could feel the energy spread across her upper body, coming closer to her worst wound. His blue eyes widened when he hit the mark, the injury refusing to heal because of the metal embedded in it.

"Is that from the arrow?" He questioned, his eyes becoming hard when she glanced away from him briefly in shame.

"Did you not think to tell me?" His voice conveyed what his eyes told and Iveona suddenly felt like a child being scolded by their mother.

And she hated it.

Iveona decided it was time to stop being a little weakling and to give as good as she got to the best of her ability.

"Wasn't all that bothered," He sighed at the bite to her words and she could see him very nearly rolling his eyes at her. The man had the greatest willpower she'd ever seen if he could prevent himself from snapping at her.

"I need to look at the wound, can I turn you over?" He ignored her previous words, becoming very determined to help her.

Her stubbornness flared up at her again, screaming at her to fight back and protest. But with another throb of her wound, her need to rid of the arrowhead overcame her stubborn nature. In defeat, she nodded her head and Martin looked at her with relief. His grip on her arm lifted, becoming gentler. It trailed down her arm, gripping her bicep with a studier grip to turn her over. As he did, a groan that she was unable to contain fell from her lips and Martin gave her an apology. However, her arm felt a lot better now that the pressure from lying on it had stopped but of course, she wasn't going to admit that to the man.

As his hand fell from her arm, it hovered across her body towards her dagger. His glanced up at her then, silently asking her permission to hold her dagger that had only been thrown at the Brute the other day. Iveona nodded again, her head feeling more lightheaded with each moment. Using her weapon, her cut the leather armour from where it had been pierced by the arrow, being careful to avoid the wound. He placed the fabric to the side when he did, a grim look befalling him when her arm was exposed. Iveona moved her head to the side to see what had caused such a reaction and nearly groaned again when she did.

Where her skin was once grey, it now had a dark hue around the wound. The latter of which was coated in dried blood and horrible pus that was leaking from the injury. But among the mess, she could see a piece of wood sticking out from it and she knew that arrowhead wasn't far behind. It appeared to hurt as much as it felt.

"I'm going to need to take your mask off," At that, she felt her breath leave her lungs.

No one was allowed to see her face; she didn't even let herself do such a thing when she looked in the mirror. She certainly wasn't going to let Martin, of all people, see it. She'd known the man less than two weeks, there wasn't enough trust there for her to do so. He would deem her ugly and wish to throw her back to where she belonged. She couldn't allow that, she just couldn't. Martin must have seen her panic and his eyes soften, the blue like a gentle river's stream.

"I promise you that I will not look, I only wish for you to avoid biting your tongue off," Even with his logical reasoning, she still didn't feel comfortable. Iveona would take biting her tongue off over exposing her face from all to see.

"Please, I won't look," He implored and she saw nothing but honesty in the pools of blue.

It was then when Iveona knew that he was nothing but the kind hearted man she had previously questioned many times. Never had anyone in her life been this consistent in their generous behaviour and she felt all suspicion about his motives. It was strange for such an epiphany to come this soon in knowing him but she supposed being alone with someone for so long tended to change things.

"Okay," She replied, her voice stronger in her ears than it should have been.

Martin gave her a grateful smile and it was the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes, not wanting to observe him as he slipped her mask away. She could feel the heat of his hand hover over the bottom half of her face, hesitation clear above her. For now, she ignored it all, trying in vain to block out the external environment. Of course, that became harder when she felt a cool breeze on the lower half of her face. It took everything in her willpower not to freeze up and stay in that position until her mask was back on her face. It was very hard not to.

However, she did not feel him staring nor hear him voice his disgust that he would surely be thinking. Instead, all she felt was a tap to her chin, asking for her to open her mouth. Iveona complied, a piece of leather touching her lips, which she clamped down on using her teeth. Her breathing rate was low despite the panic that was coursing through her body at what was to come. Through her thundering ears, she heard Martin murmur an apology.

And then she screamed.

 **A/N: Hope this chap was alright guys! Would love to hear your thoughts!**

 **Just wanted to let you know that this fic won't be updated for quite a while until I catch up with my writing (this chap is all that I've written so far for I did it before I started my exams), which I will try to get done as soon as possible, so just bare with me :)**

 **Thank you for all the follows and favourites, good to see that some people are reading it !**


	7. Face

7  
Face

The sun had long since fallen and risen, taking its place high in the sky as it reached midday. By the shade of a large oak tree sat Martin who had black shades under his eyes, making the normal blue seem a little greyer. On his lap was Iveona's head, her eyes closed peacefully as her chest moved with slow breaths.

As he went to dig out the arrow head out of her shoulder earlier that day using a flaming hand, she had given an ungodly muffled scream before she had passed out. Even now, Martin still winced at the noise she'd made even though her teeth had been clamped down on a piece of leather. It was only because she had been in so much pain and it made him upset that she hadn't chosen to admit it beforehand. By now Martin had come to the conclusion that Iveona Nethys was the most stubborn womer in all of Nirn. He still did not understand why she didn't tell him but if she hadn't collapsed in the middle of the road, the infection could have spread and she could have died.

At that thought, Martin felt a sharp pang in his chest, not quite enjoying the thought of her being in such a way. At some point, he didn't exactly know when, Martin had come to realise that she was more to him now than being a stranger. He didn't know what 'more' was but he had begun to see her as a companion, maybe even border lining a friend, even if she had given him nothing but silence since the incident a few days prior. His head moved down to stare the Iveona as she slept, no stress lines or frown in sight, and that was only from her closed eyes.

Once he had finished removing the arrowhead, he had instantly covered her face again, knowing that was what she would have wished. At first, he didn't understand why her eyes grew wide in fear when he had suggested taking off her mask. It was to keep her from biting her own tongue off but a small, sick part of him really wanted to see her full face. Granted, he wanted to do it in more comfortable circumstances and when trust had fully developed between them. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

When he had fully seen her face, he could understand the fear within her eyes. Her face was horribly scarred; there were a thousand and one cuts that marred her face. It was like her second skin, the normal grey not in sight as white marks overcame it. Her lips were almost non-existent, hidden underneath all the scars. He could see them trailing down her neck, past her clothing as well. Martin felt a fire brewing in his stomach as he thought about who could do such a thing; this was no simple bear attack. All the cuts were done precisely, with careful method. It made his sick that someone had willingly done this to her, how they could do it to anyone at all. He wondered if this was what made her the cold and stoic womer she was today.

In way, it was sad that someone allowed that to be closed off from the world emotionally. Of course, Martin was only making assumptions on what he saw. It wasn't at all reliable being that he didn't know anything about her past expect that she was sent by the former Emperor himself to come and find him.

Martin raked his hand through her hair, the silky strands like a stream of water between his fingers. He was doing the act subconsciously, his eyes staring into the endless distance. In fact, he was so out of focus that he didn't even notice her eyes flutter open. It wasn't until something wrapped around his wrists did he notice. The grip wasn't strong but enough to halt his ministrations.

Instantly heat flared across his chest, travelled up his neck but he still stared in the distance, much too mortified to look at her.

"Martin," Her voice was rough and weak, unlike her normal deep and strong one.

It was enough to make him bow his head, catching her bleary eyes. They were glazed over with sleep, the normal cold surrounding them having melted off. Her hand was still wrapped around his wrist and the touch spread more wildfire through him.

"Yes?" His words came out strained, which he tried to cover up by coughing. He prayed to Akatosh and the Nine Divines that she wouldn't ask about what he was doing. He didn't even know what he was doing.

"What happened?" Martin let out a breath glad she didn't ask the question he didn't want her to. He shook himself out of his mortification, trying to remain serious.

"As I started to take the arrowhead out of your shoulder, you, well," He paused at the narrowing of her eyes as she started up at him and Martin winced as he spoke.

"Fainted,"

Rather than expecting anger, he felt her body freeze up instead. Her eyes blew wide in panic and the hand holding Martin's wrist let go. Instead, it flew to her face, covered fingers pressing against the cloth that covered everything but her face. As instant as the action before, her body sagged and he heard a long sigh of relief that befell her.

Iveona was more awake now and her eyes turned to his again, staring at him intently. He found that there was no ice within them; instead they seemed to be warm, matching the crimson. Martin wasn't sure what to think; only ever receiving nothing but frigidity from her. He was unsure what had made her change like that; they had only known one another for two weeks now and he felt that it wasn't long enough to warrant this behaviour. He wasn't complaining of course, it was just rather odd to see her in such a way.

As her eyes searched his, he knew that she was trying to say something to him but he wasn't quite what. Eventually, she turned her eyes away, leaving Martin more confused than ever.

Iveona started to move, lifting her head from his lap before he could even blink. The act was so quick he barely had time to shoot her hands out to steady her and he was surprised a woman who had infection running through her blood could move that fast.

His hands came to rest on her shoulders, the muscles tensing at his touch once again. The Priest felt no irritation seep into his emotions, coming to understand that she would not simply uncoil at his touch. He would not try and change that but right now; he wanted to help her to be stable. Her elbows rested on the ground now her upper body angled and facing away from him. Martin shifted on the ground, bringing his knees to tuck underneath him; the limbs aching from where they had been stretched out. His hands moved away by an inch so that they were only hovering above her.

"Do you want me to..." He trailed off, asking for her permission to help her, not wanting to force her into something she did not want.

"No, you've done enough," The words were not spoken in the typical spice that had become associated with them.

Instead, they were gentler, far softer than he had ever heard her speak before. In a way, it felt like she was thanking him in her own way for he had spent enough time with her to know that she preferred actions over words. Martin swallowed, eyes fixed on the back of her head. He mulled over her words, trying to decide what to do.

On one hand he could leave her to it as she seemed far happier if he left her alone. But then again, he wasn't the type of person to leave an injured person to sort themselves out; it just wasn't in his nature. If this situation happened when they first met, then perhaps it may have been different but they were two weeks into knowing each other and he wanted to help her. Not because she wanted or needed him to but because he wanted to help her.

As a friend.

"Just let me help you, Iveona," He pleaded, his exhaustion seeping into his voice.

He had stayed awake throughout the night through to morning to ensure that she didn't die from her wounds. Martin used what little magicka he had left to use a frost spell and a healing spell to keep a fever from rising and it had drained a lot out of him. Not that he minded of course, he would gladly do it again.

She mumbled something underneath her breath before she craned her head to the side, blood eyes staring at him sharply. There was a glint of ire in them but not strong enough to make him falter, full well knowing what she was doing.

"You're the most annoying Man I've met, Princess, so persistent," She informed him and despite her tone, he let out a breathy chuckle at the nickname and her words. Iveona's gaze seemed to harden then and he realised that she thought he was mocking her.

"And you, my dear, are the most stubborn Mer I've ever met," The term of endearment slipped from his tongue before he could stop himself and he tires his best to ignore the heat rushing up his neck.

Though his words seemed to have some effect because the frostiness in her eyes dimmed a little and they turned away. There was a mildly awkward silence where they both looked away from each other with Martin finding a Tiger Lily in the distance particularly interesting.

"Fine," Came the reluctant word from Iveona and Martin snapped his gaze to her.

"Pardon?"

"You can... help me," Her tone was strained and he softened, understanding that this was difficult for her to do.

So Martin decided not to tease her. Instead, he stood up and walked around so he was in front of her. He crouched down, his knees clicking as he did. Iveona watched him her eyes widening when he held out a hand towards her. His lips quirked up in a small smile, wanting to reassure her that he wasn't going to harm her. She stared at him warily, eyes flickering down to his hand and back down to his face again.

Slowly, she lifted her hand to reach towards his. When she was only millimetres away, she pulled her hand back in hesitation. Martin didn't push her but just kept his hand where it was hovering. After a few more seconds, he felt a cold pressure on his hand. His smile grew as her fingers curled around his and he felt his heart move that bit faster.

 **A/N; They're so cute I love themmmm, I'm looking forward to show you guys what's to come, esp at chapter 12**

 **And I just wanna say that I'm a little disheartened with having over 450 views and a few followers and favs and to only have two reviews! Not trying to force anything but it would be much appreciated to get some reviews!**


	8. Note

A/N; Alas this is no update but I just thought I'd let you guys, to who ever actually reads this story, that I am no longer updating this story.

Well on this website anyways. I feel like no one is really reading it at all and being seven chapters in with little to no response, it's a little disheartening so yeah

So if anyone does want to keep reading about Martin and Iveona's journey head over to chloefrazerr on ao3

Sorry guys but it just wasn't meant to be on here


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